The surface was still as glass; and now looking downward, she almost shuddered as sight descended away, away into bewildering depths.

She held her breath as she gazed like one suspended in mid-air.
"Too late! too late!" she murmured, as she lifted herself up.

"Too late!" Her countenance was pale, even haggard.

There was no color in her lips--her eyes were leaden--her aspect like one who had been shocked with the news of a great calamity.
Mrs.Loring, Jessie's aunt, had been informed by the servant of whom she made inquiry, as to the identity of the gentleman who had called that morning to see her niece--or at least as to the identity of one of them.

She did not make out by the servant's description the personality of Mr.Hendrickson, but that of Mr.Dexter was clear enough.